


Knockdown

by Lilsi



Category: The Bill
Genre: Comfort, Coming out fears, Light addiction, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 03:33:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1495042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilsi/pseuds/Lilsi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Parallel universe where Craig is not out. Luke is an openly out officer. Craig gets hurt and has to cope with his feelings while Luke tries to help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knockdown

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction was once posted at Craiggilmore.co.uk a fan site no longer active, so to preserve this story and others, I am importing them to AO3. I did not want the loss of such a large amount of amazing and wonderful fanfiction, it would be such a waste to fans of Craig Gilmore and Luke Ashton to not have the opportunity to enjoy these stories as i have. Since the site is no longer active i have been unable to contact the creators but if you happen to be them under a new pen name and want the fiction to be removed please send me a note!
> 
> Story written by - Alex
> 
> Part of the CraigGilmore What If challenge.

Finding out that the newest member to be joining his relief was gay scared Sergeant Craig Gilmore - it would have been a miracle if it hadn't. The reaction of his partner to the news was every bit as foreseeable: Sean had laughed. Laughed until the tears had rolled down his face and he'd had to hold onto Craig or fall down on the floor. It wasn't the reaction Craig had been looking for.

 

“So what are you going to do, babe?” Sean had hiccoughed finally.

 

“Do?”

 

“Are you going to tell him?”

 

“No.”

 

“You think he won't notice? Not everyone's like you, you know – most of us notice that we're being chatted up and everything.”

 

“I was on duty,” Craig huffs, swatting at Sean's head.

 

“Well I always was a sucker for a nice helmet!”

 

“Luckily for me.” Craig grins, pulling him close.

 

It's several minutes before Sean can wriggle away.

 

“Seriously Craig, why don't you just tell him?

 

“Because my private life is none of his damn business,” Craig says pushing his hair back out of his eyes.

 

“So if he says something...?”

 

“He'll be laughed out of the Nick. Anyway, he'll be far too busy hating me; hard nosed bastard that I am, to even give it a thought. Just like the rest of them.”

 

That had been his plan from the start, before Gina Gold had dropped the bombshell that he had to mentor the boy. All that meant in the long run he'd figured, before Ashton had even pinged onto his radar, was that he'd had to be that little bit more ruthless in its execution. A lot more ruthless he'd rapidly decided after his first introduction to the cute young constable had taken place in the men's showers. He'd felt exposed and vulnerable and the colour had flooded his cheeks even though it had been Luke who had been standing there naked.

 

Instant infatuation – it would pass.

 

And he'd certainly done his best to hurry the process along.

 

Managed to keep Luke around the station for a few days to satisfy The Wicked Witch, then supervised from what almost felt like a safe distance by sending him off to check tax disks and assigning him to crossing patrols. Dealt with the sudden fear that had overwhelmed him when Luke had nearly got himself shot as a result. Tried a different tack and kept him close by his side instead. 

 

So he'd been standing less than ten feet away when Luke nearly got himself blown to pieces. His stomach had still been churning as he'd torn strips off Luke at the scene and he still hasn't fully recovered when Luke reports to his office for yet another dressing down.

 

Luke listens in total silence, his own mounting anger apparent in the tightening of his jaw, the colour flooding up through his cheeks and the ramrod stiffness of his spine.

 

“Of course we both know what the problem is, don't we?” Luke says in a shockingly low voice when Craig has finally finished shouting.

 

Craig licks his lips slowly; a feeling of icy dread fills his belly. Luke moves closer and Craig shies away from him. So, Luke has guessed after all – it was bound to happen sooner or later.

 

Luke's eyes narrow. “Do you have any conception of what will happen to your career if I go to the Superintendent right now and tell him that one of sergeants under his command - far from being the politically correct police officer he needs around here right now - is a narrow minded, homophobic bigot?”

 

“It's not true!” Craig denies hotly, his face going pale.

 

“So if I was to come over there and stand right behind you...” Craig flinches and Luke, thankfully, reads it entirely the wrong way and sneers at him.

 

“I don't want to do it but I will if I have to – STOP riding me!”

 

Craig closes his eyes briefly and concentrates on keeping his breathing under control. As if suddenly aware he has gone too far, Luke swallows, and looks away.

 

“Please Sarge?”

 

And Craig had managed it, though he was never quite sure how. Returning home at the end of each day: progressively more and more full of pent up wanting to an - at first, highly appreciative and then by stages an increasingly suspicious Sean. He'd kept his distance, his temper and his secrets. Managed to say nothing through obbos that he'd returned home from stiff with regret that things weren't different between them: when three little words in the dark could have solved at least one of his problems. And somehow, he wasn't quite sure how it had happened, they had even begun to form a working relationship So much so that by the time they had been out hunting for Reg he had had to bite his tongue to stop himself from blurting out the truth. It had been hard - but nowhere near as hard as having to continue to play Sean's adoring satellite amongst their friends while their relationship began crumbling to pieces. 

 

The speeding car that had smashed  
into him had probably done them all a favour. 

 

He hadn't even been on duty that was the irony of it, although the getaway driver who had slammed into him with the silver Fiat would never be able to see it Craig was sure. Fleeing the scene on foot the gang members could not have guessed that the bloody heap of a man that they'd left spread across the pavement was a copper. A fully conscious copper who was able to give such an accurate description that they'd been apprehended within twenty four hours by officers spurred on by the fact it was one of their own that had been mown down. Fully aware of how popular he was, that had come as something of a shock to Craig as well.

 

Hospital hours dragged slowly when you had so few visitors. He hadn't expected any, he'd already told Sean not to visit. It had certainly had plenty of time to think and he'd had plenty to think about after Sean's card arrived. The envelope had felt suspiciously bulky as Craig had ripped it open and it wasn't as if it had been unexpected yet still the cheery cartoon picture on the front had given him some hope until Sean's key had fallen out so he hadn't really needed to read the message inside: 

Hope You Feel 

Better Soon 

No love, 

Sean. 

 

What did it say about him that the highlights of his stay had been the hours he'd spent stretched out under the physiotherapist - all wavy brown hair and neat and tidy muscles under his NHS tee-shirt and regulation navy blue joggers? Hours when he'd bitten his lip and thought of Luke and Sean and the cavernous hole he'd dug for himself while trying to ignore the pain corkscrewing into his hip as Mark manipulated his shattered thigh. That he was a Sad. Pathetic. Closeted. Queer. He'd decided and he had the evidence to prove it. After all, hadn't he, who had always shied away from it, started using the nick's gym solely because he'd discovered Luke regularly worked out in there? Cycling eight miles a day and getting absolutely nowhere as Luke had hefted weights within easy reach: knowing that he couldn't – wouldn't - ever dare to touch.

 

 

***

 

Craig sits in his car for a long moment: fluently cursing the advent of speed bumps under his breath. Already regretting his decision to return to work, his humour is not improved by the reflex spasm in his leg when he moves to exit the vehicle. He would never have believed before his accident the amount of effort that went into such a simple, everyday action and he takes a second to thank the powers that be for the invention of automatic gearboxes. He sighs as he turns his key in the lock, looking up at the back of the unprepossessing brick built building that has become his second home. He wouldn't have been guaranteed a return to Sun Hill if he'd put off his return to work any longer and despite himself he has grown rather fond of the mixed bag of officers he works with: one or two of them in particular. Walking through the station, he is startled at the warmth of the greetings that meet him.

 

Gina Gold is barrelling along the corridor towards him, her lips bare into a smile when she sees him.

 

“You're late!” 

 

“Sorry ma'am, I underestimated just how long it would take...”

 

“You've been passed as fit Craig.” The Inspector fixes her beady stare on his face and it strikes him, not for the first time, as curious how she manages to look like she's peering through cigarette smoke even in the rare moments one is absent from her lips. “If you're not going to be up to the job you should turn round and leave right now, I can't afford to have you cluttering up my station.”

 

“I just need to stow my gear and I'll be along directly ma'am.” 

 

“Let's save us both some time shall we,” she says briskly, “make your way straight to CAD.” She pets his arm awkwardly. ”Grab the red chair before Ashton or Cass Rickman see it. Find me during Refs and I'll start bringing you back up to speed.”

 

“Thank you ma'am.” 

 

As he makes his way along the corridor: he can feel her eyes boring a hole through his back even after he's heard the door close behind her. 

 

 

Luke's hair, which is noticeably longer now than when Craig had last seen it, glows green in the light of the CAD room screens which makes it easy to picture Luke clubbing his nights away and Craig's mind gets stuck on the image of Luke's body moving to an unheard rhythm. He finds himself closing his eyes and trying not to break out in a cold sweat. 

 

“Sarge?” Cass's voice breaks into his guilty reverie. 

 

“Yes Cass, problem?”

 

“Time for your Refs Sarge - you asked me to remind you, you have to go and see Inspector Gold.”

 

“Right, thanks.” He stands up slowly, running a hand round through his hair; exiting the room, he knows Cass and Luke are exchanging glances behind him.

 

“You've lost weight.” Gina greets him when he walks through her door clutching his coffee mug and a Jaffa cake bar.

 

“Er, thank you?”

 

“It suits you.” She lights up, laughing at him as he disgustedly flaps a hand through the air in front of his face. “God I'm glad you're back Craig, the station is becoming a shambles. Boyden's wandering about the place mooning over the new young Doris and this Murphy woman they sent over to replace you is yet another bleeding heart we could do without.”

 

“Up to speed ma'am?” he prompts glancing at his watch and fishing in his pocket.

 

“Right, yes. Got your notebook?” She waits for him to finish swallowing and return the packet to his pocket before she starts speaking again.

 

He fills five pages with his neat looking script before she finally lets him go.

 

The rest of the afternoon passes creepingly slow. With little to do, Craig watches the time crawl around to eight o'clock and then excuses himself. “Just popping out for a moment.”

 

“Right Sarge.” chirps Cass.

 

“No need to hurry back,” adds Luke.

 

“Exactly what do you mean by that remark constable?” Craig snaps.

 

“Nothing Sarge - just we've got everything under control and there's no rush, “Luke falters.

 

Craig feels the heat rise in his face. “Oh, right. Okay, thanks,” he mutters as he disappears into the corridor.

 

He swallows the two small pink pills whole with water from the dispenser, crushing the paper cup in his fist before missing the bin with it. He is debating how best to retrieve it when his office door opens and Nick Klein sweeps down on it saving him the bother.

 

“Luke says they're sorry Sarge, but the phones have lit up like a Christmas tree in CAD and please can you get back there right away?”

 

It wasn't as bad as it could have been: the reports of multiple explosions turn out to be unintentionally exaggerated accounts resulting from display quality fireworks being let off in someone's back garden.

 

His head is swimming by the time he's made it half way round his local, far too brightly lit, supermarket. Licking his lips as he scans the ranks of exotic flavoured juice cartons for one that appeals, he thinks longingly of the sort of dinner that Sean would have had waiting for him after a gruelling day at work. He grabs several cartons from he shelf almost at random and makes his way to the chilled meals section. Being single again sucks.

 

The flat has felt rattlingly empty since Sean had left. It wasn't just that he had, in a major fit of pique (that Craig had no difficulty in visualising), removed so many of the contents: including the bedroom curtains and the Dualit toaster from the kitchen, but that he had taken most of their friends with him. Craig unpacks his groceries as the microwave hums in the corner, the laundry detergent being thrust to the back of the work surface when the bend to the bottom cupboard defeats him. Craig pours himself a tumblerful of juice when it pings to a halt and grabbing cutlery from the drawer he arranges his long legs as comfortably as possible under the table. Pushing the plastic plate away from him several minutes later, he throws his last tablets of the day into his mouth, swallows hastily, chucks his leftovers in the bin and places the glass carefully in the sink. Snapping the light off he makes his way in darkness to what had been the spare room when Sean had still been living there and, peeling off his jumper lays himself out on top of the duvet and falls straight to sleep for the first (and last) time in weeks.

 

...

 

If I was out—Craig finds himself thinking as he watches the rest of the relief trooping past him several afternoons later. Correction watching Luke walking past him, head tipped back, to reveal an expanse of creamy throat, as he laughs at something Des has just said before throwing an arm casually around Nick's shoulders and sniggering something into his ear. Craig scrubs a hand over his face and starts again--If I was out... There is no way you could have any sort of relationship with him anyway, you're his Sergeant! 

 

 

Nick and Luke are deep in conversation when Craig walks back into CAD after taking his Refs at six o'clock, olive skin against fair, heads close together, so he can't hear what they're saying.

 

“Constable Klein!”

 

“Sarge?” Nick jumps guiltily.

 

“Do you have a particular reason for being here?”

 

Nick straightens up, hesitates, obviously thinks better of trying to explain himself and excuses himself instead. “Just leaving Sarge.”

 

“I'll have to think about it,” Luke says, turning to face him, ignoring Craig's glare.

 

“PC Ashton, I would be grateful if you could conduct your private life in your own time.”

 

“Nick's not my type.” Luke says easily, turning his back on him and adjusting his headset. “Sun Hill police station, how can I help you?”

 

...

 

“Do you mind?”

 

Matt Boyden drops into the space beside him snagging the box from the tabletop before waiting for the answer. “My head is killing me.”

 

Craig shifts his gaze from the gaggle of constables at the next table over. “I don't know how you get away with it,” he says.

 

“I'm sorry.” Matt blinks, startled. “It's just a headache tablet.” 

 

“PC Kerry Young.” Craig stabs a finger in the direction he had been looking.

 

“Jealous Craig? Fancy her yourself? Or just,” Matt's gaze settles on Cass Rickman as she leans across the table and pinches a chip from Luke's plate. “Looking for pointers?”

 

“She's a junior officer!”

 

“Oh get off your high horse Craig and join the party, no-one cares who we do what with any more, as long as we're discreet.”

 

Craig scrapes his chair back abruptly. “Which is exactly my point...you aren't and you still don't get hauled over the coals for it.”

 

“Just lucky I guess.” Matt winks at Kerry as she walks past and continues to watch her as she makes her way out through the door, before rising to his feet himself. “Anyway, thanks for sharing, we'll have to do it again sometime.”

 

...

 

“Course you know,” drones Reg in the background, “the thing about platypus is-” Craig's head slips off the palm of his hand, jolting him awake. “they lay eggs. Yes. The only mammals to do that you know.” Reg rips the top off the sugar packet as if to emphasise the point. 

 

“Marsupial Reg.”

 

“You have a point there Luke, technically it, is, also, a marsupial.” Industriously stirring his tea Reg is as oblivious to the eye-rolling glances his fellow diners exchange as they are to Craig's momentary lapse of consciousness at the other table. “Australian of course, as are most of the more commonly known marsupials...” Poor Reg - beside him Gary has started with the invisible-sock-puppet hand action - but even he has Des to cuff the youngster round the head for him.--Who've I got? No one and no chance of getting one sitting at home every night feeling sorry for yourself either.-- It isn't as if he doesn't know what he wants or where to find it. He watches Luke drain the last dregs of his coffee from the cup in front of him before nudging Nick's leg beneath the table to get him moving.--“Charlie's Bar” if he's not very much mistaken or possibly Xchange. No definitely Xchange--he corrects himself. Luke frowns at him as they pass and he realises he must be staring.

 

...

 

Craig's grateful for the change of pace when he finally gets a shift on custody duty, CAD was giving him a permanent headache. As usual, for a Saturday afternoon in football season, the cells start filling up soon after the final whistle and by seven thirty, he is more than ready to take a break. His throat is scratchy from shouting to make himself heard above the general din. So he isn't really feeling disposed to talk when Luke cannons into him in the corridor, his skin glowing, hair still damp from the shower, his kit bag hanging loosely from his hand - he's evidently stayed behind after his split shift to work out.

 

“Hiya Sarge, sorry didn't see you there.”

 

Craig acknowledges him with a nod and Luke falls into step with him, carelessly bumping up against his arm as they walk.

 

“Haven't seen you in the gym since you got back...”

 

Craig pats his leg with his note pad. “Not really up to it yet.” 

 

“If it's still bothering you some gentle exercise should help. Release a few painkilling endorphins - you know?” Luke pushes his hair back off his forehead. “You're getting physio right?”

 

Craig thinks regretfully of Australian Mark, he of the wavy hair, and shakes his head. “Still waiting for an appointment.”

 

Luke grabs at his arm and he doesn't instantly pull away. “But that's insane you shouldn't have to wait!”

 

Craig swallows, hard. “Don't have much choice.”

 

“But if it's still hurting and stopping you doing things you want to do? Have you thought about going private?”

 

“On my pay?”

 

“If I can afford it you can. I've got his number..."

 

“Thanks Luke but I don't think so.”

 

“It's fifteen pounds a session, and he does home visits.” Luke continues earnestly as if he hadn't heard.

 

“I don't think so Luke!” Craig says more firmly.

 

“What is it with you? Worried he's going to be raging poof ogling your body?”

 

“No” Craig finds himself staring at the place where Luke is still touching him. Luke lets go suddenly and tugging Craig's notebook from his hand, flips it open to a blank page and scribbles hastily.

 

“Look this is his number, phone him, his name's Carl, say you're a friend of mine, if his wife answers don't say something stupid and embarrass yourself will you?” He thrusts the pad back at Craig, snatches his bag off the floor and stomps off down the corridor.

 

As soon as Craig gets indoors he smoothes open the scrap of paper from his pocket, allowing his fingers to linger a while over Luke's hieroglyphics before pinning it to the cork board by the front door, and finds a photo of Sean there laughing, at his stupidity. He rips it down and tears it into teeny pieces scattering them over the contents of the bulging waste paper basket in the living room. Phoning this Carl person will definitely have to wait, he'd be embarrassed for anyone to see the state of the place right now.

 

...

 

He has withheld judgement on Sergeant Sheelagh Murphy long enough he decides the fifth time she walks in on him - Inspector Gold had been wrong – she had seriously underestimated the woman's annoyance factor. It had been 1am when he'd ensconced himself in the office to try to get a grip on his paperwork, and even in his current ropy state, he would have made more headway without her constant interruptions.

 

“Craig are you sure you should be here? You sound dreadful.” 

 

“It's just a cold.”

 

Luke appears at the door behind her. “Here you go Sarge I thought you could use this.” He manoeuvres his way past Murphy trying not to touch her and plonks a mug into the only space not covered with papers.

 

Craig peers at the contents.

 

“It's a hot lemon 'cold and flu'– Reg had some.” Luke hesitates for a split second before turning to the woman in the doorway. “I think Des is looking for you Sarge.”

 

She tuts loudly, over loudly in Craig's opinion.

 

“What now!”

 

“I don't know, he was wandering about near custody, if that's any help.”

 

She bites her lip and unaccountably blushes as she backs out into the corridor. “Thanks Luke.” 

 

Craig finds himself frowning after her as Luke rescues an armful of precariously balanced folders from the chair and perches his bum in their place.

 

He grins when Craig raises an eyebrow at him. “Don't ask and I won't have to tell.” He shuffles the folders straight. “Can I help with anything?”

 

“Can you read Gary's handwriting?”

 

Luke's eyes flash with sudden amusement. “He can read mine so, yeah probably.”

 

There isn't enough sugar in the lemon and it's too hot to drink, but Craig sips at it dutifully. “Good, translate this for me then? I'm sure it can't say what I think it says.”

 

...

 

He should probably feel guilty - it is a job they all hate: searching for a missing toddler – but it is the most alive Craig has felt since he came back to work. The light is fading rapidly now and the boy, Tommy, has been missing since three o'clock when his teenaged sister's world had shrunk to precisely the right size to fit her latest dream date. Less than four feet to his left Luke is poking carefully at a bush. Strung out across the common either side of them are the rest of their relief, several officers called in from other stations and a handful of volunteers. Another hour or two and the night team will be called in early. He stumbles on the rough terrain, only remaining upright by virtue of the pole in his hand. He looks around, no-one seems to have noticed, they are all too intent on the search. A whistle blasts shrilly away off to his right and the civilian on his other straightens up excitedly.

 

“Does that mean they've found him?”

 

Craig's radio crackles to life and he leaves Luke to give the poor guy, he remembers his name is Joe, the unfortunate news that it's just a rest break.

 

“But -” Joe splutters, “can't we just keep going? It's still light and-” he falls silent as Luke shakes his head at him.

 

“We need to stay together so we don't miss anything.” 

 

“And what happens when it gets dark? We just give up and go home I suppose!”

 

“We bring in lights and keep on looking,” Craig says gently, limping over to join them.

 

“You all right Sarge?”

 

“Tripped over something...” 

 

“Sergeant.” Joe greets him with an outstretched hand, all teeth in the gathering gloom and retains his grip as he eyes Craig up and down. It's not the time or place for it and Craig finds it revolting. He wipes his hand clean down his jacket as Luke draws Joe to one side when some of the other searchers come to join them. He watches them as Joe's eyebrows shoot up and he does a startled double take in Craig's direction. There's a muffled snort of laughter, though not from Luke, thank goodness. 

 

Looking around him at the mass of drooping shoulders as they all trudge wearily away from the Common at midnight Craig can tell everyone feels as numbingly depressed as he is. The most anyone has managed to find is a child-sized, navy blue backpack that Luke had discovered stuffed firmly into some brambles. Yet, somehow, Joe still manages to dredge up a smile from somewhere as he bids them all goodnight.

 

When Craig drags himself into work a little after nine o'clock, after a fitful night's sleep full of dreams of Luke laying drowned in the lake on Canley Common, there's already a gaggle of volunteers waiting in the drizzle outside the front of the station. Nick and Luke are standing off to one side with Joe, their hands wrapped round industrial sized take-out cups of coffee. In a moment of exhaustion-induced randomness, he doesn't know which he is most jealous of Joe, Nick, or Luke's coffee cup. 

 

The bag Luke had found has caused quite a stir with CID. Nothing at all to do with the missing boy, unfortunately but everything to do with an ongoing investigation into recent gang related activities that have filled the beds of St Hugh's with more than its normal quota of knife related injuries.

 

The rain is coming down in earnest as Craig drives them towards the hospital in his own little red car.

 

“This sucks,” Luke snarls, “I didn't sign up to protect gang members and drug pushers from each other.”

 

“None of us did.”

 

“God knows what could be happening to that little kid right now.”

 

They exchange glances, they have both been policemen long enough to have a pretty good idea. It has been more than twelve hours since he had been reported missing and the y both know the possibility that Tommy will be found safe and sound is now pretty remote. 

 

“You should have driven a panda.” Is Luke's only comment as Craig is forced to flash his warrant card through the windscreen at the hospital security guard who catches them parking in a reserved space. 

 

“None of them are automatics.””

 

Luke's eyes narrow. “Your leg that bad still?”

 

“We did a lot of walking yesterday.” 

 

Luke twists towards him. “You really need to start using the gym again, you know, you'd feel a lot better for it.” 

 

“So you've said.” Craig unsnaps his seatbelt.

 

“You're coming in?”

 

“Need to make a pit stop. You go and relieve Tony and I'll come and find you.”

 

They are crossing the ambulance bays when the doors to A&E burst open and three gold encrusted youths armed with baseball bats burst through them. Beside him, Luke just has time to swing his asp once before they are on top of them 

 

***

 

Craig comes to with the beginnings of the worst hangover ever and someone moving around beside his bed. 

 

“Sean?” he mumbles through a mouthful of cotton wool, his eyelids feel like they have been cemented shut.

 

There is a moment of hesitation and an extra hard jerk on the sheet covering him—Sheet? He has a duvet! Just whose bed was he in?

 

“No, sorry.” Replies a man's voice that Craig seems to think he should know. Whoever it is, they grip his wrist in cool firm fingers and give his hand a reassuring squeeze as they lay it carefully on top of the covers.

 

Craig groans, pressing his head down into a bank of pillows that aren't his as he feels himself sliding, seasick makingly, back into oblivion.

...

 

He resurfaces at the snick of a door catch and a far too cheerful, female, Caribbean voice apparently asking him if he wants a cup of tea.

 

I'm asleep! GO AWAY—he just has time to think irritably before Luke's quiet affirmative permeates his befuddled brain. Luke, not Sean. He forces his eyes open - steeling himself for the glare of light that he just knows is coming and is going to really hurt. Dappled yellow sunlight, filtering through closed curtains illuminates the hospital room he is in: its mellow light softening the sharp hospital edges of the room, not quite reaching as far as the door. Casually dressed in baggy trousers and a loose shirt Luke is reaching through the door, awkwardly taking cup and saucer from the unseen woman in the corridor outside.

 

“Dere now,” says the smiling, disembodied, voice, “look, I t'ink he's awake...”

 

Luke spins around at her words, slopping hot liquid over his fingers and into the saucer. 

 

 

“What's going on?” Craig asks as clearly as he can manage with a mouth as dry as sawdust.

 

“How d'you mean exactly?” He eyes grow darker as he looks at Craig. “You remember us getting bashed right?”

 

It's a dim jumble of half-heard yells and muffled thumps; baseball bats and raised asps. The roar of a racing engine, rain soaked roughness under his cheek, and splintering pain.

 

“Not that.” He waves his hand dismissively. “I mean what are you doing here?” He asks accusingly.

 

Luke lifts his shirt and Craig stares in horrified fascination at the ugly blackened boot prints across his tautly muscled stomach, neatly bisected by pristine white strapping. 

 

“Cracked ribs and concussion.”

 

 

Luke sits on the bed opposite pretending to read a magazine as a short, blonde haired nurse, summoned to him by Luke's finger on the buzzer, busies herself with checking his vitals. Craig is already muttering darkly about drips, real food and wanting his own clothes and she is turning a professionally deaf ear.

 

“Mr Gilmore,” she says, finally exasperated, “you received a blow to the head that left you unconscious for a day and a half, the IV stays until the Doctors do their afternoon rounds and say otherwise. However if you are a good boy we can arrange for someone to bring you in some clothes, and if you ask him nicely maybe your colleague here might go to the shop for you and buy you something to suck.” She looks smiles apologetically over at Luke. “He'll have an awful taste in his mouth now he's awake...d'you mind?”

 

“No,” Luke says flipping his magazine shut. “No problem.”

 

Craig waits until she has exited the room before he turns his full attention on Luke. 

 

“Sorry. I... You were there too.” --'Us getting bashed' Luke had said.

 

“We were here outside the hospital.” Luke prompts.

 

Craig tries to sort the images in his head into some semblance of order.

 

“There were three of them, they came running out of the building and I was far too slow.”

 

His answer seems to satisfy Luke as he lets out a breath that Craig hadn't consciously noticed he was holding. “We were both caught on the hop.”

 

“You managed to get your asp out.” He's already feeling tired again and thinks he must sound it.

 

“Fat lot of good it did either of us.” Luke snorts. 

 

“I'm sure you did your best.” He blinks slowly. “Luke?”

 

“Sarge?”

 

“Did they find that little boy?”

 

The pause before Luke answers tells him all he needs to know, the light touch of his fingers skimming over Craig's shoulder only confirms it. “Don't worry about that now, get some rest yeah? I'll mimble along to the kiosk and find you something to suck. Which would you rather - minty or fruity?”

 

“Fruity...” Craig has his eyes closed already.

 

“Thought so.” 

 

The words are still hanging in the air as Craig falls asleep.

 

When he wakes up it's dark outside the window and Luke has the light on over his bed. There's a tin of travellers' sweets, a bottle of tropical fruit juice and a small packet of tissues beside Craig's water jug.

 

“Thanks,” he croaks, pushing himself upright, “how much do I owe you?”

 

Luke stops chewing on his thumb but keeps his eyes on the page in front of him. “Don't worry about it.”

 

“But I wouldn't feel right,”

 

Luke lifts his head and looks at him considering. “Do you ever?”

 

...

 

“I just don't know why you didn't think you could confide in me.” Luke says, eyebrows drawn straight, studying Craig's face as rising panic sweeps through him.

 

“I don't know what you're on about,” he blusters. 

 

“Sean,” Luke offers. “Not that I hadn't already guessed.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Do you want me to get hold of him for you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Won't he be wondering where you are?”

 

“No.” Craig swallows hard, closing his eyes. “He...We...” He opens them again to stare at the blank white wall in front of him. “We're not together any more.”

 

“Is there anyone else should be told? Inspector Gold contacted your parents.”

 

“And?” It's almost not worth the bother asking: he knows the answer already.

 

“When they found out you weren't in any immediate danger they didn't come...”

 

Craig avoids meeting his eyes.

 

“Is that why you aren't out at work?” Luke asks gently. 

 

Craig closes his eyes - he can't deal with this right now.

 

...

 

Luke is eating his tea when Staff Nurse Watson comes to take Craig's IV down, Craig watches as he pinches a slice of tomato from the edge of Luke's plate.

 

“Hey!” Luke grins smacking his hand away.”I might have been saving that!” 

 

“You weren't though...”

 

Luke pulls a face, “Can't stand tomatoes.” He tips the plate a little. “See anything else you fancy?”

 

“Now that's a leading question.” Watson says quietly, half an eye on Craig. “Why don't you ask me again when you've been discharged?”

 

Craig's crimson with jealousy as Watson pulls the needle from the back of his hand. Watson has nice hands he notices, also: honey brown skin, dark brown eyes, square shoulders beneath his white uniform top, and a terrific smile. 

 

...

 

Luke declines pain relief when the drugs trolley trundles round and Watson shoots him a look as he shoves a small rattling pot in front of Craig.

 

“I have you down for Cocodamol.”

 

“Codeine doesn't agree with me and paracetamol's worse than useless anyway so I'll give it a miss thanks,” Luke says firmly.

 

Watson takes Craig's empty water beaker from his hand and sets it back on his trolley for him.

 

“On your own head be it.”

 

 

“So,” Luke starts as soon as Watson's left the room again, “no-one at work knows you're gay I can understand that. Do any of your gay friends know you're a policeman?” 

 

“A few. Don't look at me like that – it's hardly the first thing any copper tells the people he meets is it? I bet you're no different you wouldn't get many pick ups in Xchange by broadcasting the fact you were in the Force would you?”

 

“Charlie's Bar” Luke corrects him absently, “and I resent the implication that comment contained.” He scratches delicately through his tee shirt at the edge of the tape and winces slightly. “I get your point, but how do you cope?”

 

“Badly according to Sean - I wouldn't have minded a few more of our friends knowing – but it was a trade off.”

 

“One secret identity for the other?”

 

“In a nutshell. He hated me being in the Force to begin with, me refusing to list him as my next of kin just made it worse for him. Never knowing at night if I was late because I was late or because I was laying injured somewhere. The car crash was the last straw for him.”

 

“He left you after you got hit by that car?” Luke checks. “You weren't even on duty!” 

 

“We were already having problems. When I stuck to my guns and told him not to visit, I think it finally brought it home to him that I was never going to come out at work for him.”

 

“How about for yourself?” 

 

“I joined the Met as a career - I didn't just want to be 'bobby on the beat' I wanted stripes, pips, promotion, to carry the cane, to one day be sitting in a big leather chair in a very plush office and...”

 

“And?”

 

Craig shrugs. “I couldn't see how I was going to achieve that by coming out to being gay! Looking back, maybe it wasn't the best decision. I look around now and see young coppers like your joining up and saying up front this is me, this is what I am deal with it and think, maybe I could. Do that.”

 

“So do it and move on.”

 

“You know it isn't that simple: the longer you leave say something unsaid the harder it gets to say.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Do you?”

 

“Yeah.” Luke ducks his head. “Being gay has side effects after all...”

 

Craig's heart thumps wildly in his chest. “You're not 'sick' are you?”

 

“NO!” Luke arranges himself comfortably on his bed and glares at him. 

 

Well that's a relief--“Sorry, none of my business anyway.” One minute's silence stretches awkwardly into five. “You know I've often wondered...”

 

Luke smiles at him encouragingly.

 

“whether...”

 

“Whether?”

 

“your being gay played a part in your decision to quit the Met the first time.”

 

Luke's shoulders sag.

 

“I made a mistake because of it but it wasn't what you'd call instrumental, no.”

 

“Mistake?” 

 

“There was this guy-”

 

“You fancied him and he was straight?”

 

“Oh PLEASE give me some credit! He was a hard arse ex-squaddy and I thought I had to impress him.”

 

“Impress him?”

 

“He gave me a lot of stick for being gay. One day this gang cornered us, when one of them drew a knife, I bottled it. I think now, looking back on it, if I'd just said to Smithy, 'Yes I was shitting myself okay?' things might have been better. But I didn't want to give him any more ammunition so...”

 

“You lied?”

 

“Yeah. Thing is when the same thing happened to Dale he comes right out and admits it and no-one thought any the worse of him.”

 

“Smithy? Dale Smith? Same man that shot Sergeant Cryer?”

 

“Yeah. The one and only - Smithy must have been gutted, he really admired old Bob, we all did. 

 

 

Kerry Young sneaks in quietly at about nine o'clock bringing Craig real clothes and his wash kit from his locker at work, courtesy of Inspector Gold, and a large bunch of black grapes for both of them from herself. She leaves after ten minutes of spitting the seeds inelegantly into the paper rubbish bag taped to the edge of Craig's locker, excusing herself on the grounds she has a date to get ready for. Neither of them bothers asking who it is with.

 

Lights out (or lock down as the Luke jokingly christens it) can't come soon enough for Craig: it's exhausting keeping up appearances. 

 

...

 

“Not your year is it sunshine?” Gina demands from her place at the bottom of his bed the next day – it is far too early for visiting hours but the nursing staff mysteriously make themselves scarce on her arrival. “A couple of weeks back on the job after recovering from a car accident and this has to go and happen to you...Careless.”

 

“Perhaps someone is trying to tell me something.”

 

“You're not thinking of jacking it in are you? The Force can't afford to lose experienced officers like you, you know.”

 

“I might have to...”

 

“Is that you talking or were you brain damaged and no-one's noticed? You love your job and you're bloody good at it, I'll have to be looking back over my shoulder soon the rate you're climbing the promotions ladder.”

 

“Sorry ma'am.” Luke starts to back out of the door before he's fully through it. “Hadn't realised you were here.”

 

“Ah Luke, come in why don't you? What's the news on you?”

 

“I can go home later on today, outpatients appointment in three weeks, see how it goes from there.”

 

“Right pair the two of you aren't you?”

 

Luke studiously avoids catching Craig's eye. “Yes ma'am.”

 

Gina consults her watch. “Right I should be at a meeting right now, because the Sergeant I would have delegated to go in my place is currently resting on his laurels in a hospital bed.” 

 

“Sorry ma'am I got clobbered just  
so you couldn't send me, my fault entirely...” 

 

She pats the covers near his hand. “Get better soon Craig. Saint Sheelagh of Sun Hill-in-waiting and bachelor Boyden are doing my head in.”

 

“Yes ma'am.”

 

“She fancies you,” Luke says, closing the door behind her.

 

“Don't be stupid.”

 

“As good as, don't say you haven't noticed she has a soft spot for you?”

 

“She just respects me as a fellow officer,” Craig says primly. 

 

“Whatever makes you comfortable.” Luke says gathering his belongings together and stuffing them into a holdall.

 

“She's a good ten years older then me and my superior officer.” 

 

“Like either of those things have ever stopped anyone when they think someone's available, look at Boyden...”

 

Craig shudders. “I'd rather not.” 

 

“Me either,” Luke agrees amicably, rooting through the pile of magazines on top of his locker.

 

“Do you want my stash?”

 

“What have you got?”

 

Luke rifles through the titles. “Men's Health, Men and Gay Times.”

 

“Not the Gay Times.”

 

“You don't read the 'Times'?” Luke looks up enquiringly. “Everybody reads-” He stiffens until even his hair looks like it's standing on end in annoyance. “Expecting Gina Gold to visit again are we? Want me to run out and pick you up a Mayfair or Playboy instead to bolster your image?” he says testily, dumping the other two onto Craig's covers.

 

“No!”

 

”Never mind, Ben Watson will have it off me.”

 

“I'll bet!”

 

“Course that doesn't mean he's going to get it though.”

 

“Not good looking enough for you?”

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

“I just-” 

 

“You just nothing Craig Gilmore!” It's the first time Luke has called him by his given name. “That's the second time you've done that. What makes you think that all I'm interested in is good looking guys? You think I'm that shallow?”

 

“Okay so you're the one gay guy under twenty five who's looking to settle down with some fat, old, ugly, bald bloke and live happily ever after are you?” Craig can't keep the bitterness out of his voice.

 

“Maybe I am. You wouldn't know would you? You know nothing about me! Other than that I'm gay and don't particularly care who knows it.” Luke hisses.

 

Craig waves a feeble hand in Luke's direction. “Just leave me alone could you Luke?”

 

“Don't worry, I'm leaving. I'll wait in the discharge lounge until Nick gets here.”

 

Well of course, it would have to be Klein.

 

...

 

He is almost pathetically grateful when Luke reappears just before lunchtime, hovering in the doorway while he watches Craig potter carefully back from the bathroom at the end of the corridor: freshly bathed and shaved. His head still feels dirty and sticky though, as he'd been forbidden to get his head wet.

 

“Sorry about earlier,” Craig says.

 

“Me too. I was out of order...” Luke looks uncertain as he leans against the frame and lets Craig shuffle past him.

 

“I deserved it.”

 

Luke shifts from foot to foot. “Nick'll be here in about half an hour.”

 

“I'll-” be sorry to see you go, Craig doesn't say. “So, where does that leave us?” he asks instead into the awkward silence.

 

“Bed-hopping under twenty five.” Luke grins ruefully. “What about you?”

 

“An apparently bitter, closeted queer.” 

 

Luke reaches out as a spasm of pain grips Craig's body. “You okay?” 

 

“I'll be fine.” Craig snaps, easing himself onto the edge of his bed.

 

Luke hovers by Craig's elbow. “You know you've only been awake a day and the doctors are already concerned by the amount of pain you seem to be experiencing.”

 

“Seem?” Craig grinds out, “It's bloody real to me! How do you know that anyway? Who've you been talking to?” If it's Watson, he'll enjoy making a complaint.

 

“No-one, I spent the morning skulking around up here instead of going downstairs.”

 

“What do you mean 'concerned'?” Craig mutters as the pain finally lifts.

...

 

“Get out,” spits Craig as Luke resolutely stands his ground before him. “How dare you presume to know...” 

 

There's a nerve twitching in Luke's cheek. “I know okay?” 

 

“You don't know what it's like-” The image of Luke refusing painkillers last night burns brightly in Craig's head. “You don't,” he says again, uncertainly. 

 

“As I see it you have two choices: Either I can go and speak to the medics, tell them what I suspect which will almost certainly put paid to any prospects you have of promotion. Or you can leave this room with me now, and we can try and sort you out together.”

 

“Leave?” 

 

“Sign yourself out...you are actually fit enough.”

 

“The doctors...”

 

“They can't keep you here, and they'll realise what's going on soon enough. They're overworked not stupid. Which is it going to be?”

 

“Work?”

 

“Won't be expecting you back for at least ten days. Ring Gold and tell her they're letting you out and you're going to recuperate at your sister's.”

 

“I don't have a sister.”

 

“Make something else up then.”

 

...

 

Sunk on his own sofa a couple of hours later, sweat breaking out across his brow Craig is already regretting the whole idea. It's stupid to sit here in pain when there is something he can do about it. He lurches upright and makes his way determinedly to the kitchen.

 

Luke is standing at his sink, singing along tunelessly to the tinny accompaniment of the headphones he's wearing. He only looks round when he feels the cupboard door swing open behind his head.

 

“You won't find any.”

 

“My head hurts.” Craig grumbles.

 

“It isn't time,” Luke says, calmly turning his music off. 

 

“My head hurts now!”

 

“Go and lie down. I'll bring you something.” Luke's gaze softens as Craig's shoulders relax in expectation. “Later.” 

 

Craig takes a step forward, it would have been more threatening if he hadn't had to hold onto the worktop to stop himself from swaying. Luke's hand slips into place over his.

 

“Do you want to go to bed?”

 

“I'm not your type.” 

 

“You said it.” Luke's fingers stroke into his palm as he lifts his hand from the counter. “Come on let's go while you still can.”

 

“I don't-” Craig huffs.

 

“I know you don't,” Luke sighs, turning Craig round and propelling him towards the door, “but I'm damned if I'm going to carry you there later when you can't actually manage to walk.”

 

“I don't know why you're doing this.”

 

“Good Sergeants are few and far between, besides.” He is silent for a second, “I like you.”

 

...

 

Craig dozes fitfully while Luke is out at the shops, he's dimly aware of bin men shouting outside in the street as the building hums to life around him: there's a small tribe of children stomping cheerfully overhead and raindrops are rattling against his bedroom windows. Luke had brought him two tablets with coffee and cereal for breakfast but it hadn't been enough to even take the edge off his misery. It's weird to be back in his own room and the bed feels far too big, but he hadn't been able to face explaining it wasn't where he'd been sleeping. If Luke had been shocked at the bareness of the room he'd kept his mouth firmly closed as he'd settled Craig onto the ottoman and busied himself making it fit for him to sleep in. 

 

...

 

Luke lets him have two tablets every two hours that first day. It is nowhere near enough. His head pounds constantly even when he's sleeping. Luke rouses him and makes him drink soup at lunchtime, which takes the chill off for a while, but he's shivering when Luke wakes him for his three o'clock dose with a hand on his forehead.

 

Luke settles himself on the end of the bed, tucking his foot up in front of him and resting his chin on his bent knee while he waits for Craig to finish the rest of the strawberry flavoured water.

 

He dangles the empty glass from his finger. “This Sean bloke really did a number on you didn't he?”

 

Craig pulls the duvet up around his chin. “Do we have to talk about him?”

 

“Not if it's hard for you.” 

 

“It is.” Far too hard to have to explain to Luke what part his arrival on the scene had played in their break up.

 

“Maybe when you're feeling better.”

 

“Maybe,“ he says hoarsely, burying himself beneath the covers.

...

 

He's twisted up in his duvet cover, soaked with sweat and shivering when Luke comes in at midnight.

 

“Why didn't you call me?” he sighs exasperatedly as he heads back out through the door.

 

Craig whimpers a little when Luke peels the duvet down, the cold night air raising goosebumps on his skin. 

 

“I've turned the heating up” Luke says slipping in beside him.

 

He supposes he must look shocked because Luke pauses. 

 

“You're cold right?”

 

Craig nods slowly, setting off another round of violent shivering.

 

“This is the quickest way I can think to warm you up.” 

 

Craig inches over to make space and Luke props himself up against the headboard.

 

“You can lay down you know, I don't bite.” he mutters from down beside Luke's thigh.

 

“I can't,” Luke says softly, “ribs remember?”

 

He hadn't. “Sorry.” he mumbles into softness of Luke's pyjama trousers and promptly falls asleep.

 

...

 

Craig looks around slowly. It's summer. They're on his balcony. The late evening sunlight is warm on their skin. As he looks Luke puts down his beer, takes his face in his hands and says,

 

“Craig?” His voice oddly disjointed, not matching the movement of his lips.

 

“Craig?”

 

He blinks his sleep swollen eyes open at the very real touch of fingers smoothing across his cheek and continuing up into his hair.

 

“Hmm?” He starts as the bed dips crazily beside him and an arm slides beneath his shoulders raising his neck from the pillow. “What?” 

 

“You need to drink something.”

 

“Sleep,” he mutters, turning his face away from the touch of something cold on his skin.

 

“Drink first.” Luke urges, awkwardly tracking Craig's mouth with his hand. 

 

The glass touches his lips and despite himself, Craig takes a sip, his throat closing painfully around the contents. His empty stomach contracts around the coldness and Luke swears softly, folding Craig uncomfortably close to his side as he struggles to rid himself of the unwanted drink. 

 

“Sorry, sorry, I should have thought...” 

 

Busy curling his knees up to his stomach Craig is in no mood to forgive him. Rolling Craig over onto his side Luke settles back behind him, slipping a hand beneath the covers. Craig shivers a little as it slides onto his belly, but not from cold. He unwinds as Luke's touch spirals outward and allows himself the luxury of resting his spine against Luke's thigh. 

 

Cool breath fans across the side of his neck as Luke bends close. “Enough?” 

 

Craig nods into the pillows as Luke continues to pet him, he knows he's out of it but he's not so far gone that he'll be embarrassing himself any time soon by telling the truth.

 

“This time tomorrow.” Luke promises.

 

They both know it's a lie.

 

...

 

Craig wakes up slowly, to a reassuring heaviness next to him on the bed. He stretches his toes and fingers cautiously and warily opens one eye to see if he's still alive. 

 

Luke is asleep beside him: sitting on top of the covers with his chin tipped down onto his chest, his long dark lashes resting on his cheeks, his mouth curved into a soft smile, he looks about twelve. His eyes drift open as Craig watches.

 

“Morning, feeling better?”

 

Craig nods. “Bit achy. How long's it been?”

 

Luke yawns and stretches—has he been sleeping there every night?--and peers at the clock. “Fifteen hours. Hungry?”

 

Craig takes stock of what his stomach is trying to tell him. “Thirsty.” he concedes.

 

“Soon fixed.” Luke smiles and rolls off the bed.

 

... 

The re-introduction of food and drink back into Craig's system, inevitably, has consequences.

 

Luke rolls his eyes as he watches Craig struggle upright before taking over: deftly manoeuvring Craig's legs over the edge of the bed and curling his hands under Craig's armpits – Craig eyes him doubtfully.

 

“Should you be doing this?”

 

“I'm glad you're feeling well enough to be asking.” Luke's grits his teeth and settles his feet further apart. “But you're still not well enough to do it on your own so...I'm still helping.” Luke sighs as Craig sits immobile, and hauls his arms up about his neck. “Wrap your arms round.” 

 

“Mind yourself.” 

 

“Help then!” Luke grinds out, straightening his knees.

 

Hauled upright Craig finds his thighs trembling as he allows Luke to support his weight. “I can manage now,” he lies earnestly.

 

“Yeah right.” Luke's grinning face appears, obliterating Craig's view of the floor. “I've seen it all already you know. You were a lot less bother when you were out of it even if you did weigh a lot more.”

 

“You're not coming in with me!” Craig hears himself squeak. He can't believe it when Luke starts laughing at him. 

 

“Fine I'll wait outside the door.”

 

The deal made they negotiate their way to the bathroom without incident. Luke holding onto his elbow until the last possible second.

 

 

“Luke?”

 

The door handle twists down half an inch. “You okay?”

 

Craig flushes. “Yes...” The handle settles back up. “Just...Thanks.” He turns on the tap running a hand over his face, frowning at the rough stubble he encounters. He gazes stupidly at his hands laying on the thick porcelain - they don't seem to be a part of him.. “Luke?” 

 

“Yes?”

 

“Could you get in here?” The door opens a chink, one brown eye, a shock of hair and half of a nose and mouth appear, enquiringly, in the gap. “Could you help me shave d'you think?” 

 

 

“You know how to do this right?” he croaks watching as Luke half fills the sink, and bites his lip as Luke turns on him: taking his hand in his and placing it against his cheek. It's warm and smooth beneath his fingers and still slick with whatever balm it is that Luke uses instead of aftershave. Craig's thumb lingers on the sharp angle of his jaw.

 

“Have I missed a bit?” he asks wryly.

 

“No.” Craig lets his hand fall back into his lap.

 

Luke shaves him carefully and with the minimum of fuss, it is entirely not his fault that Craig is not in control of his own reactions to it. He's blushing crimson and stammering his apologies by the time Luke's finished.

 

Which is when Luke puts down the razor, cups Craig's face in his hands and sighs, “You just don't get it do you?” 

 

He can't drag his gaze away from the sight of Luke's mouth but he CAN make light of the situation even if it kills him.

 

“Not as often as you anyway.”

 

Craig has just enough time to discover Luke tastes of peppermint as his lips brush fleetingly across his own. “When I said I liked you, I meant I really like you, you great lug.”

 

...

 

Luke is a revoltingly helpful person to have in the flat. He vacuums with ruthless efficiency; opens all the windows to let in the fresh air, and polishes anything that doesn't move. In short, by the time Craig is ready to return to work at the end of the following week, he has firmly organised himself into Craig's life. His choice of accompanying music is more than compensated for in Craig's opinion by his artless shimmying along to the beat.

 

...

 

Luke's hands settle on Craig's shoulders, his lips relaxing against Craig's mouth as Craig deepens the kiss. Finally, he releases his grip on the front of Luke's shirt.

 

“Not that I'm complaining mind.” Luke takes a half step back away from him. ”But what gives?”

 

“Just starting the way I mean to go on.” Over Luke's shoulder Craig tracks the progress of the unfamiliar sharp featured, dark haired sergeant up the ramp.

 

“Are we being watched?”

 

“It will be all over the station before I'm inside the building.” Craig agrees.

 

“That's certainly one way of doing it.” 

 

“It was either this or make some kind of announcement during morning briefing. This-” He punctuates his point with a dry mouthed kiss to Luke's throat. “is just as terrifying but a heck of a lot more enjoyable.”


End file.
